


Personal Reasons

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwarves, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hobbits, M/M, One Shot, Rivendell, Shy!Thorin, Smut, bagginshield, flirty!Bilbo, flirty!Thorin, innuendos, kinda smutty, request fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:57:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3483986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were many a supposed reason why Bilbo came. The dwarves thought it was because he wanted to prove himself. Gandalf thought it was because Bilbo was quite adventurous after all. The hobbits in the shire said it was because he was mad and had lost his mind. It was even said that he wanted to help the dwarves reclaim their home, since he was such a large hearted fellow. Perhaps these things were true, Bilbo could certainly attest that they did make sense. He did want to prove himself in a manner of speaking, maybe was a bit adventurous after all, and who knew; he could have lost his mind ages ago.<br/>There was one reason that he wouldn't have confirmed or admit to anyone, though. And this was the reason that he identified most with.</p><p>Bilbo Baggins went for Thorin Oakenshield.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Reasons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reader4books](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reader4books/gifts).



> Sooo this fic was a request for "Why Bilbo Actually Joined The Quest" and tbh it's not terrible, but I won't say it's great either. I actually wrote this a while ago, and I wasn't satisfied with it, and had a crazy urge to rewrite and expand it. So I decided to post this as a one shot, and later on I'd write the twenty-chapter fic I really want to.
> 
> I would do it now, but I've got to prep for the upcoming ACT's, not to mention I want to focus on the other fic I'm working on. 
> 
> Well. I hope you enjoy it!

Bilbo Baggins was not adventurous. He was not brave, he was not wild, he was not strong, nor was he heroic. He was hardly the stuff of legends. He was a gentlehobbit, and prided himself as so. He had no interest in going on adventures, or reclaiming lost homelands, or spending months on the road with dwarves in the Wild. He would much have preferred to be home, in his smial, reading a book, sitting by the fire, warm and cozy and dry and the exact opposite of what he would be, if he were to leave Hobbiton.

Well, at least he felt that way until he saw Thorin Oakenshield. When the door opened, and Gandalf greeted him, Bilbo had followed closely behind, peering at the dwarf as he entered Bilbo's home. Bilbo shifted from foot to foot, watching as this last dwarf removed his cloak, flipping his gorgeous mane of hair.

Then he turned, and Bilbo had absolutely lost it. He felt his heart plummet down into his stomach, and his knees weaken. His knees almost gave in.

No joke. Bilbo Baggins' knees weakened at the sight of a-a dwarf, of all things! Never mind that the dwarf was perhaps the most handsome and striking creature he had ever seen, with his long flowing locks of jet hair, piercing blue eyes, and delicious beard.

Thorin Oakenshield. Son of Thrain. Rightful king under the mountain.

Oh sweet Yavanna…

Bilbo gulped as he became the subject of the dwarf's gaze, eyes wide as the dwarf looked him up and down with an appreciative smile.

"So," the dwarf rumbled, in a voice so deep in made Bilbo tremble. "This is the hobbit." Bilbo fidgeted, heart pumping as that deep voice resonated through the room.

His heart froze, and a decisive need overcame him, a silly one that demanded he reach out and touch the dwarf. For a brief moment Bilbo fantasized about that voice whispering horrid little naught things in his ear, panting and moaning. The dwarf smirked a little, and Bilbo felt himself flush.

He knew it was ridiculous, but for half a moment he feared Thorin had known exactly what he was thinking of.

"Tell me, have you done much fighting?" The dwarf said, walking a circle around Bilbo, his gaze sweeping over the hobbit's figure. Bilbo avoided meeting that gaze again, and shivered a little. "Axe or sword? What is your weapon of choice?"

Bilbo cleared his throat, and met Thorin's smile with a smirk. "Well, I do have some skills at conkers. If you must know." He was oh so very proud of himself. He, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, flirted at Thorin Oakenshield!

It was a simple enough statement, but it dropped enough of a hint that Bilbo felt confident that Thorin would understand, if he wished to. It was also safe in its simplicity, if one was not looking for a hint, it would not be found. Bilbo was clever like that. Riddle-making and word play were his sole means of defense, he grew up in Hobbiton after all. Someone was always trying to nearly pick at someone else with carefully placed insults and backhanded compliments. Words were what Bilbo valued above all else, he knew precisely how to manipulate and had mastered the art of wordplay as a young kit, Bilbo faltered a bit though, Thorin's smile ebbed away at the corner's, and he became unsure of himself.

"But I fail to see why that's relevant." He sniffed, scowling a bit.

"I thought as much." Thorin said, blue eyes sliding away and then back, his smirk slapping back onto his lips. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

Then the king turned around and ventured into Bilbo's dining room without so much as a backwards glance. The dwarves followed, and Gandalf brought up the rear, behind his entire body to walk through the archway. Bilbo was left standing there, head tilted in confusion as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Had or had not Thorin been flirting with him?

So many signs said yes; that the magnificent dwarf had displayed signs of interest. Yet so many others said no; that the dwarf was having a go at him, and was definitely not interested. Bilbo scowled at the wall, sighing and walking in the dining room after the dwarves.

For the remainder of the night, Bilbo lingered in Thorin's presence. Leaning over his shoulder to "read the map", handing him over a bowl of soup letting his fingers linger, holding up a candle to provide light, but was actually just an excuse to be closer to him. Thorin didn't seem to notice, and if he did, he displayed no signs of displeasure. At least obvious ones. Thorin didn't even glance fully in his direction, or even look at him much. Bilbo tried to catch his eye more than once, but Thorin paid him no heed. If anything, it seemed the dwarf had no particular interest in him, and the attraction was completely one sided.

 

……………

 

In Hobbiton, Thorin loses his way, twice. But he continues to search on. He is determined to find the door, even if a part of him feels as if he is doomed from the start, and this is just a glimpse of the cursed quest to come. He would not have found it if not for the mark on the circular green door.

Yet, when he reaches to knock, he hesitates. A slight fear began to brew in his belly. Half-worries and perturbing thoughts settling in his brain. He knew he must knock on the door, it's calling out to him, the glow from Gandalf's mark is begging him, to just knock. It is terrifying though, for he knows once he knocks there is no returning. He knows that this journey will happen, and he is afraid. He knows deep within his very bones, that when he knocks on that little green door, everything will change. He knows that there will be no return to the life he once knew. For a moment he feels again like the young dwarf he once was, leading his people to Ered Luin, unsettled, and completely unaware of what the future held.

He cannot hold back. He needs to knock. And before he can even change his mind, or give it some thought, or reconsider, he is knocking on the door, fist pounding slowly and heavily. A weight released off his shoulders, and the round door opened. Gandalf was on the other side, bending quite comically to meet his gaze.

"Gandalf." Thorin said evenly, determined to not let his anxiety and brief fears surface on his face.

He walked inside, bending his head to walk through the door. He sees his kin; old friends and relatively new relations. He couldn't help the smile that pierced through his face. For half a moment he allowed himself to forget, forget the troubles they'd faced, the home they'd lost and relishes in the sight. They all looked happy and eager to see him. His nephew Kili gazed up at him with adoration, Balin smiling as they think of the older times, Dwalin beaming with joy, each and every dwarf looks healthy, happy and well. Thorin contented himself with the sight, relishing in the sweet and familiar gazes of his kin and kind. He feels a foreign set of eyes upon him, and he turns around, meeting the gaze of a peculiar creature.

A hobbit. Thorin would be a liar if he said he didn't notice the hobbit right away, or how attractive he was.

Thorin had never really paid much attention to the creatures of the Shire. They were faceless, soft beardless things, hardly worth a second glance. But this one- this one warrants an insurmountable number of glances.

His head was covered in a nestle of curls that glimmered gold and bronze in the delicate lighting. His eyes were large, a soulful and contemplating green, flickering over the king. There was curiosity in those eyes, fear and trepidation as well. He gazed at Thorin, a blush settling over his soft cheeks, and his soft mouth settling into a surprised "o" shape. He was beardless, and there wasn't even an inkling of fuzz on his face. Despite the attraction to body hair that most dwarves had, Thorin found he liked the creature's beardlessness, in fact he liked all of the features of the hobbit. As Thorin absorbed the wonder, he's graced with an intent to take and protect. It's a savage want, a delicious and dangerous desire that is all his own.

 

"So," he said slowly, eyes taking the sight in. "This is the hobbit."

This creature. This hobbit. This halfling. This burglar. Thorin could not move his eyes. His eyes marveled over the sight, curiosity and interest taking the best of him.

"What is your weapon of choice? Axe or sword?" Thorin asks, making a full circle around the hobbit, appraising him.

"I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know." The hobbit smirks a little, and a strange fluttering feeling settles in Thorin's stomach.

Is this hobbit flirting with him? He finds himself staring at the smirk, admiring he upturned corners of the pinkish mouth. Thorin regards that mouth, and a sight of that mouth upon his own nearly makes him gasp. He saw his hands buried in the hobbit's hair, his nose running against the side of that lovely throat, his mouth wandering into places that made the hobbit whimper.

Yes. Thorin was filled with a second wave of solid desire to own and protect. To take, to covet, to guard and hoard. He must. He must have this halfling for his own.

"But, I fail to see why that's relevant." The hobbit continues, eyebrows furrowing slightly, and Thorin couldn't suppress his amusement or the chuckle that came from it.

"I thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." Thorin chuckled, giving the hobbit a smirk of his own, delighting in the confused expression he makes.

As the contract was brought up, and the map shown, Thorin was already devising different plans of possible outcomes in which to take the hobbit. A part of himself insisted they leave the hobbit there, that taking him on the journey would only kill him, and Thorin wasn't very keen on he idea of he object of his fancy dying anytime soon. Another part argued that he should take the hobbit with them, so Thorin could claim him then and forevermore, and that leaving him was a ridiculous idea that would ruin all of Thorin's hopes.

He didn't have much more time to ponder this, though, because the hobbit fainted, soft body crashing into the wooden floor. Balin lamented over this, convinced the burglar would not come, mumbling about the quest being doomed from the start, and perhaps they were all better off without the halfling anyway.

Thorin watched the hobbit walk, admiring the ample roundness of his body in the right places, the fine curve of his bum- Thorin shakes his head, such thoughts were not proper in the time or the setting. He would have to wait until he reclaimed Erebor, then he would send for the halfling, claim him as his lover, cover him in jewels and fuck him in piles of gold.

……………

" _Far over the misty mountain's cold…"_

 

Bilbo was sweating at the sound of Thorin's voice. The deep vocals made him tremble as he dipped into sleep. He tried to resist the direction his thoughts seemed to be taking, but to no avail. In the darkness of his room, his sleep-heavy mind began to take shape of things that would make him blush under any occasion.

 

 

" _To dungeons deep and caverns old…"_

 

**_Thorin smiling, eyes dark as he removed his cloak. Leaning in to bite Bilbo on his earlobe, hand trailing down his belly._ **

 

" _We must away, ere break of day…"_

 

**_That beard, scuffing across his face, tongue lapping over his, hands gripping tightly onto his hips._ **

 

 

" _To find our long forgotten gold…"_

 

 

**_Being pushed into his bed, pressed into the center. Callused fingertips spreading his legs and removing his trouser-shorts, caressing a sacred place._ **

 

" _The pines were roaring on the heights…"_

 

**_Hands tangled in his hair, lips ferociously tugging on his own. The tight hooded tent of Thorin's own trousers._ **

 

" _The winds were moaning in the night…"_

Bilbo began to moan.

" _The fire was red, it flaming spread."_

 

**_A shaft being prepared, hands purposefully grazing him. A tight feeling as fingers and then something larger pushing past his most sacred spot._ **

 

 

" _The trees like torches, blazed with light."_

In his mind, he was fucking Thorin.

 

…>…<…>…<…>

There were many a supposed reason why Bilbo came. The dwarves thought it was because he wanted to prove himself. Gandalf thought it was because Bilbo was quite adventurous after all. The hobbits in the shire said it was because he was mad and had lost his mind. It was even said that he wanted to help the dwarves reclaim their home, since he was such a large hearted fellow.

Perhaps these things were true, Bilbo could certainly attest that they did make sense. He did want to prove himself in a manner of speaking, maybe was a bit adventurous after all, and who knew; he could have lost his mind ages ago.

There was one reason that he wouldn't have confirmed or admit to anyone, though. And this was the reason that he identified most with.

Bilbo Baggins went for Thorin Oakenshield.

Mostly because, well, the king fascinated him. Thorin was honorable above all means, and it was quite obvious that he was desperate to reclaim his home. He was a dwarf of kingly means, which was fitting, and Bilbo would have easily pledged his life to serve such a stately dwarf. And also, to be frank, he more than anything desired the king. He knew after he had laid his eyes upon that magnificent dwarf, he would not be able to enjoy the company of another, especially since his last good lay was rather boring, and he had a sort of idea that Thorin wouldn't be boring. No, a dwarf was not gentle, and Bilbo was tired of gentle. He wanted to adventure with Thorin into a heightened sexuality. He could reach higher peaks with Thorin, and so desperately wanted to try. Beyond that, fantasies simply weren't going to cut it either.. He wanted the real thing. He wanted to become the lover of a king. But, Thorin truly wouldn't be a king if he had no mountain or kingdom to rule.

So, it as entirely sensical for Bilbo to go help and attempt to reclaim that kingdom, at least for the long term lay. And who knew? If some passionate meetings in the woods happened during the travels, who was he to deny them? Things had been very much different than what he had thought though.

There wasn't any action-of any kind to begin with. The traveling was long and tiresome, and Bilbo became quite weary after a long day of travel, which was every day. It was days upon days of walking in the wilderness, which was quite frankly-a boring feat.

The best parts of the trip were the conversations he shared with Fíli and Kíli, along with Bofur, who he became particularly close to. Although there were some fun events, like the prank Fíli pulled on Dwalin, where he and his brother put fire ants onto Dwalin's bed roll. The scream had been so loud, Bilbo was convinced someone was dying. It was quite comical to see Dwalin growling and hissing in anger as he tried to roll the fire ants off, and it was even funnier to see the dwarf chase after Fíli and Kíli once he recovered.

Things were boring though, and Bilbo became sure that there was no way within all of Arda, that his interests were returned. It sent him into a black mood, and for the next few days he spent all of his time snapping at everyone and sulking a little. He didn't even really notice it until Kíli had pointed it out, comparing him to Thorin. Bilbo was appalled, and only rolled his eyes, earning a chuckle from the ridiculous dwarf. It was that moment that he decided that taking matters into his own hands was his only option, really. He would do whatever means necessary to crawl into bed with Thorin. So he began to flirt with a king.

…•…•…•…•…•…•

Thorin was being driven insane.

Leading a company of mostly untrained dwarves through the Wild, was no easy feat. It was bad enough that they numbered so few, and it was even worse that they were all civilians of some kind. He had accepted their help, because they had been true enough to offer it, and he could not fault them for being loyal, although they were of little use. He worried constantly about the mortality of the group, praying to Mahal that they would complete this task somehow without the death of anyone in the company. The wizard only proved an even bigger problem. He only served to knock down Thorin's plans, defaming him as foolish when Thorin didn't agree. He disappeared at random intervals, and when he was around-it was for brief amounts of time where he only argued with Thorin about fucking elves. 'The elves are to be trusted.' 'The only one with ill will is you, Thorin.' 'Your pride shall be your downfall.' 'We should go to Rivendell.' 'The elves only wish to help.' Elves this, elves that, elves are the smartest, elves are so helpful, elves shit out diamonds. Blah, blah, blah.His nephews proved difficult too, young and cocky, unafraid and unconcerned. He regretted allowing them into the party, but he supposed it was his own fault. It was him, not their mother, who had spewed countless tales of Erebor and their true home. It was him who encouraged them to become strong, versatile warriors, strong enough to lead a kingdom in Fíli's case. The pair spent all of their time giggling like children, pulling pranks and playing around. They practically were children, and acted as such, and he really didn't have the time to put them back into place. He was too busy making sure they had enough food, that Dwalin wouldn't stab Nori, that Gandalf would shut up, that they could reach the mountain, mapping out the roads they would take, sharpening his weapons, ending quarrels, making sure they weren't noticed by anyone, choosing safe places to make camp, rationing water, trying to interpret the map, and trying to make sense of the enigma that was Bilbo Baggins.

The hobbit shamelessly flirted with him, winking saucily, smiling coyly, letting his fingers linger, murmuring innuendos constantly, often making Thorin choke on whatever it was that he was eating. He didn't know how to respond to this, this constant attention and sly fixation. He always ended up reddening, sputtering as the hobbit ran his fingers across Orcist, casually describing the beauty of 'Thorin's sword', stroking the fine metal. Thorin tried his hardest not to imagine those spry little digits purposefully stroking a different type of sword. Thorin could not make sense of this creature, this flirtatious little burglar who obviously had some sort of-sexual intent for Thorin.

He didn't know how. It's been ages since he'd fulfilled any old desire, and the flames of such had long been snuffed out. Or so he had thought. This gorgeous little divine burglar enflames desires and wishes he hasn't had in decades. More than once he takes first watch on purpose, waiting for everyone to fall asleep, and creeps to the trees on the edges of camp, stroking himself over thoughts of a certain hobbit laying naked in gold, screaming for his name.

Thorin. Thorin. Thorin.

Each time the burglar screams it, a hot throb vibrates through his cock, and in the hushed darkness he moans for the hobbit, who is having similar thoughts, only in the form of dreams, whispering Thorin's name. He is delirious with want for the creature, and the hobbit's attempts at seduction only make matters worse. It's been so long, he feels like a young dwarf again, hopelessly confused and helpless, with no idea how to go about this. But he cannot help this savage desire brewing in his belly, screaming for him to take Bilbo and make him scream Thorin's name over and over and over. He wants to please the burglar, to make him whimper and whine with want, to have him explode at the touch of Thorin's hands, to have him melt underneath Thorin's lips and-

"So, the burglar, eh?" Dwalin's voice jolts him from his thoughts, and Thorin looks over at his shieldbrother, scowling a little.

He hadn't realized he was staring at Master Baggins, who sat sandwiched between Fíli and Kíli, laughing at Bofur's antics, smiling as he sipped from his cup of wine, nibbling away happily on dried fruit. Dwalin is smirking, giving him an all too knowing look, eyes twinkling in amusement.

"I've no idea of what you're talking about." Thorin said gruffly, purposefully avoiding Dwalin's gaze, allowing it to settle on Bilbo again.

The hobbit's gaze found his, and Bilbo's smile widened, and he looked away before glancing back, eyes warm as he blushed ever so slightly. Dwalin laughed, and leaned closer to Thorin to whisper in his ears.

"You must think me a fool not to see it. I've known you since I was born, Thorin. You want the halfling. Go do something about it and spare the rest of us from your misery."

•…•…•…•…•…•…•

Bilbo hummed along lightly, enjoying Bofur's singing as he danced on the table, kicking his feet up into the air, stomping joyously. He took a quick drink of wine, only to freeze a little, under the premise of being watched. He looked up, only to meet Thorin's bright blue eyes as he drank deeply from his cup of ale. Dwalin leaned in to whisper something in Thorin's ears, somehow managing to smirk and frown at the same time. Thorin only nodded ever so slightly, not bothering to remove his eyes from Bilbo, who was furiously blushing at this point. Bilbo couldn't help but glance repeatedly over at he king, whose dark blue gaze was unwavering.

There was something undefinable in those eyes, and Bilbo daren't hope it was what he wished it to be. Sure, flirting with Thorin was fun enough, but he didn't expect the king to notice, or even return the interest. All Thorin ever did was squirm and avoid him, reddening a little as Bilbo tactfully dropped insinuation after insinuation. But now he could see what it was like to have the attention returned, and it was intense, to say the least.

Thorin's eyes never moved, and it was all too much for Bilbo. After some time he couldn't take it anymore, so he cleared his throat, stood from the table and excused his presence with the excuse of retiring to his room.

He nearly ran from the hall, blushing down to his bone, ignoring the feeling of a heavy gaze on his retreating back. He ran down the hall, turning a corner and dashing up some stairs, trying to push off the flush that clung to his skin. He walked a while longer, ready to turn around and actually go to bed. He signed though, as he realized he was completely lost and had no idea where his room was. Lord Elrond's home was huge, and all the halls were incredibly similar and long. Bilbo bit his lip, looking around for any familiar sights, finding none he decided to continue walking. Sighing in annoyance at his forgetfulness, he rounded a corner, smacking straight into a warm chest.

A warm chest that belonged to an unsmiling Thorin Oakenshield.

"T-Thorin." Bilbo stuttered, eyes wide. Thorin settled him, large dwarven hands stilling him into place.

"Are you alright?" He asked, deep voice reverberating in the empty hallway.

"Oh? Oh! Yes. I am, er-quite alright." He said, blinking up at Thorin.

Thorin's eyes didn't move, and neither did his hands. Bilbo quickly became nervous, and he shifted uneasily, face flaming all the while.

Thorin slowly withdrew his hands, face blank as he commented, "You're blushing."

This made Bilbo's flush deepen, and his face warmed up even further.

"W-what?" He said, distracted. "I-I-I am not blushing!"

"Yes, you are."

Bilbo huffed, he had hoped that Thorin wouldn't have noticed it, the fire underneath his skin, but as is, dwarves had eyes suited for the darkness, and the king was making good use of such. He glanced up at Thorin, who was looking at him strangely, head tilted. He looked back down, shaking from the pressure of Thorin's gaze, dark eyes roaming over every inch of him.

"Don't be embarrassed." Thorin said. "The color suits you."

Bilbo looked up with wide eyes, reddening even further. Uneasily, he shifted back, walking backwards as Thorin advanced.

Bilbo's back pressed up against the wall, and Thorin came up closer, warm breath hitting Bilbo's hair and forehead, left hand coming to rest behind Bilbo's head.

"But perhaps my opinion is swayed." Thorin murmured, tilting his head to meet Bilbo's eyes. "I feel that every color and garment suits you, Master Baggins." Bilbo gasped, breathing heavily as his heart thudded angrily in his chest.

His cheeks were hot, and the blush coursed through him, pulling down all the way to his toes. Thorin's right thumb went to caress his cheek, sending through another wave of heat through Bilbo's body. Thorin smiled ever so lightly.

"There's the color I like to see." Thorin hummed lowly, voice lowering into a deep tone that made Bilbo shiver underneath that hand.

Bilbo smiled hesitantly. "You're not so bad yourself." His voice came out huskier than he intended, in a low breathless whisper.

Thorin's hands moved to either sides of him, pressing him against the wall, head tipping forward as his lips brushed against Bilbo's throat, sparking a heat that roared through his veins, making him twitch and giggle. Thorin hummed a chuckle of his own, burying his mouth in the heated skin, licking and nibbling and kissing with purpose. Flames of desire licked Bilbo's stomach, and he crooned a little, tilting his head back, relishing in the feeling of large dwarf hands roaming across his skin and a rough beard nuzzling across his neck. Bilbo's hands reached up to tangle into his hair, and he pulled ever so slightly, eliciting a low growl that had Bilbo moaning in response.

Thorin pulled back enough to meet Bilbo's eyes, half-lidded and heavy with desire. Bilbo leaned up towards him, so their mouths could meet, and the king pushed into Bilbo, pressing him firmly against the wall a second time. Bilbo tangled his fingers in Thorin's hair, tugging on the hair, making him growl again, and Bilbo smiled underneath his lips. So Thorin liked his hair pulled. Bilbo opened his mouth wider, licking the petal soft lips, and pressing his tongue into Thorin's mouth, deepening the kiss and involuntarily rolling his hips against Thorin's, acting more on instinct than anything. Thorin's hands slid down Bilbo's waist, instead cupping his soft bum, and trailing down a thigh and wrapping it around his own hip. He pulled Bilbo up completely, and Bilbo caught on, crossing his ankles behind Thorin's hips.

Bilbo wrapped his arms behind Thorin's head, and moaned deeply into his mouth, making wet sloppy sounds as they lapsed in and out of messy kisses. Bilbo ground his hips into Thorin again, and Thorin responded in turn by rutting Bilbo against the wall. Bilbo was gasping for breath, and his pants were becoming uncomfortably tight, gasping for a release. Thorin smirked a little, and his left hand rested on the hooded tent in Bilbo's trousers, rubbing over Bilbo's cock, or rather- the thin layer that separated the two. Deft dwarven digits spring him free,undoing his buttons and he whines. This pleasure, this feeling it's all too much for him. The flame of desire in his stomach is burning him up, and he arches his back, moaning.

"T-Thorin." He panted, breathing heavily. Thorin only leans forward, panting in Bilbo's ear his dark hair falling as a curtain over both their faces.

"Maybe, maybe- ah! This isn't- a good place-" he huffed, trying hard to regulate his breathing and speak at he same time, but Thorin's hands were so lovely. And those fingers knew exactly how to manipulate him.

"Ah-ah-ah!" He felt Thorin rumble, doubtlessly chuckling. "Too late." He said, moving his hand faster, and Bilbo could only whimper in ecstasy.

"Yes, yes. Please, oh, goodness-yes!" Bilbo leaned into Thorin's hand, thrusting into the palm, rolling his hips.

He tightened his hold in Thorin's hair, groaning and whimpering. Thorin's large thumb brushed over the head, fluid already leaking out. "Thorin…" he whimpered,a long and singular sound spewing from his throat. "Oh… please."

Thorin slowed his hand down, but did nothing to loosen his grip, lazily stroking Bilbo's cock, making the hobbit bite his lip and lowly wail in pleasure. He closed his eyes as Thorin nibbled on his earlobe, whispering deliciously nasty things in his ear, and he can't hold out anymore. His eyes flash open, and he arched his back, crying out as his pleasure came throbbing through him, vibrating through his cock and up his spine, a sweet and sensual thrum echoing through his body. He rides out the ending of his orgasm, his wails slowly ebbing into whines, then low whimpers, his most private member growing soft in Thorin's all too capable hand. He slumped against the wall, completely drained, opening his eyes slowly to gaze at Thorin.

"D-do you…?" He trailed off, breathing heavily. Thorin chuckled, kissing Bilbo in a long and languid stroke, his tongue rolling over Bilbo's. He pulled back, a humored look in his dark eyes.

"I'm fine." He said, voice impossibly deep. "I doubt you've even the strength to deal with me properly right now."

Bilbo only tilted his head, leaning into the caress of Thorin's hand over his cheek. "Besides," Thorin said, kissing his throat. "The image of you so beautifully satisfied is more than enough for me."

Bilbo blushed a little, the image of Thorin pleasing himself already latching onto his mind, but he quickly steered away from those thoughts. If he wasn't careful, he'd have an erection again. Bilbo loosened his arms around Thorin's neck and slowly slid his leg from Thorin's hip, but Thorin easily caught it, sliding it back up. He looked heedlessly amused, lips curling up into a slow smile.

"I didn't say this was over yet." He tucked Bilbo's member back inside his trousers, letting his fingers linger a bit longer than necessary. He pulled Bilbo closer to his chest, nosing his way through the hobbit's curls, inhaling deeply. He walked down the hall in long, purposeful strides, albeit strangely and stiffly, if the slight bulge against Bilbo's body was anything to go off of. Thorin smiled down at him,  leisurely stroking his back, chuckling as Bilbo purred.

**Author's Note:**

> See? It kinda looks like I should add more, right? Well, at least that's the way I feel. I'll probably get started on this new fic sometime around my spring break. Idk. I'm not promises, yet. 
> 
> But I will make a sequel that will definitely be written better than this. The main reason why I'm posting this in the first place is that I feel guilty for not finishing up this request since I've had it for a month or so.


End file.
